


got a feeling that i'm going under

by katebishoop



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4303002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop/pseuds/katebishoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm tired of pretending."</p><p>This wasn’t a part of the plan: her and Bellamy. It never was. It was called fake dating for a reason. </p><p>They may have taken it a bit too far.</p><p>--</p><p>Or, a modern day fake dating au in which Clarke's ex-boyfriend won't leave her alone and Bellamy steps in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> Just so there's no confusion, the "Circulator" I mention refers to the Charm City Circulator, which is Baltimore's free bus service.

The start of Clarke’s worst day ever started when her sink broke.

“Octavia,” Clarke said into the phone as she tried to shut the water off, “I can ask Finn to do it, you don’t need to send Bell-”

“ _Puh-lease_ , Clarke,” Octavia cut her off, “your boyfriend doesn’t know shit about these things. You remember the toaster incident?”

Clarke did not need to be reminded of that. “Fine,” Clarke sighed.

“Just feed him when he’s there and he shouldn’t complain.” Octavia said before hanging up.

Clarke tossed the phone onto the kitchen table behind her and set about to clean up mess. When she was done with that she grabbed one of the frozen pizzas from her freezer (which were always stocked for when any of the boys came over) and put it in the oven.

Clarke was about to go searching for any tools she had lying around when there was a knock on the door. She hadn’t been expecting Bellamy to arrive so soon; the high school where he taught didn’t even get out until three, and it was only two.

And she was right, because it wasn’t Bellamy.

At the door stood a Latina woman holding a thick manila envelope. “You Clarke Griffin?”

Warily, Clarke nodded. She should have lied. The woman’s hand came out and slapped her hard on the face. Clarke’s hand shut up to touch her cheek, “ _Who the hell are you?”_

“I’m Raven Reyes,” the woman said, “Finn Collins’ _girlfriend_ of two years, and you’ve been screwing him.”

Clarke’s eyes narrowed and shook her head. No. No…?

“Read it weep, Princess,” Raven shoved the envelope at Clarke, “that’s what he calls you, right? _Princess?_ ” She turned on a heel and stomped down the hall, leaving Clarke there shocked, one hand to her cheek and the other clutching the envelope to her chest.

* * *

Bellamy had been looking forward to an afternoon off, but no, he had to go and fix Clarke’s sink.

 _“Why can’t she get Collins to do it?”_ Bellamy had asked Octavia.

 _“She said the same thing!”_ Octavia had replied, _“but you very well know_ why.”

Yeah, Bellamy did. Fucking Collins.

Octavia had said that there would be food, so that was a-

Bellamy stopped in the hallway of Clarke’s apartment building. Her door was right there, and ajar. Clarke never left the door unlocked, let alone open, ever.

“Clarke?” he called out as he took a cautious step inside.

That’s when he smelt something burning. Bellamy rushed to the kitchen and immediately to the  oven shutting it off and opening the door to air it out.

“Jesus, Clarke, are you _trying_ to burn the place down-”

He had been speaking to himself really, because it wasn’t until now that he noticed Clarke sitting with her head in her hands at the kitchen tables, photos spewed everywhere.

“Clarke?” He quickly went to her and pulled up the chair next to her, “Clarke, what’s wrong?”

He could hear her sniffling behind her hands. He looked down at the photos on the table. Some were of her and Finn; some were of Finn and another woman. It didn’t take long to put the pieces together.

_Fucking Collins._

“Clarke,” Bellamy rubbed circles onto her back, “where did you get all this?” Clarke had seemed perfectly happy in her relationship, no reason to hire a private investigator or something.

Clarke lifted her head out of her hands and looked at him. Her eyes were puffy from crying, but so was her left cheek. “Finn’s _girlfriend_ came by.”

“Did she do this to you?” Bellamy said, referring to her face as he quickly went and got an ice pack out of the freezer. “That bitch-”

“No you don’t get it Bellamy,” Clarke said through sobs, “ _I’m_ the other woman. I deserved it. I-”

Bellamy pulled her in for a hug and she shoved her face into his chest, her hands grasping at his shirt. He stroked the back of her head, whispering reassurances to her as one thought repeatedly crossed his mind:

_I’m going to fucking murder Finn Collins._

* * *

 Later, after tucking Clarke onto the couch with a blanket and some tissues he called Octavia, who promptly rushed right over.

The first thing Octavia did was look at the photos and tossed them all in the trash. 

“Has he tried calling her?” Octavia asked him.

Bellamy held Clarke’s cell phone, which he had found on the counter, “Like forty times. Her mailbox is full.”

Octavia frowned, “You haven’t told her?” 

Bellamy shook his head. 

Octavia paced around the kitchen in agitation, "I can't believe the son of a bitch, Clarke's the best damn thing to ever have happened to him-"

“Look O," Bellamy placed his hands on his sister's shoulders, "I'd love to continue this conversation, but we need to focus on Clarke. I'll get this place cleaned up and go pick up dinner. She could really use you right now."

Octavia huffed, then nodded and kissed his cheek before leaving the room to go to Clarke.

As Bellamy got to work on putting Clarke’s kitchen back in order, he wished he could be the out there with her.

* * *

For the past three days, quietly taking care of her without mentioning the F word. Usually, when they all got together at Octavia and Lincoln’s for dinner, they were all loud and fun and joyful - Jasper and Monty cracking jokes, Miller telling the weirdest story of what happened at work that week. But yesterday had been full of delicate conversation, like they were all navigating a minefield. Ignoring the elephant in the room, the empty chair where Finn had sometimes sat.

Clarke didn’t say anything that night, because why bother? They all knew what had happened. Clarke just fiddled with her box of Thai food; she didn’t have much of an appetite.

Not recently, anyway.

Her phone had buzzed. She knew who it was: who else could it be? She’d been avoiding it for days, and honestly, she was really surprised he hadn’t come around in person. Was it because of Raven? She didn’t know if she should be disappointed or relieved. She didn’t know what she should be feeling.

She had loved Finn, they had been together for six months. He was always the perfect boyfriend.

But, of course she’d just had to be wrong.

Finn: _Clarke, answer me_

No more running now. She texted back: _Java Moon @ Penn, 2pm_

It was the first shitty café that she could think of, in a place that was out of the way for both of them. A place with access to taxis, buses, and trains, if Clarke wanted to run again.

When she had put her phone away, she found Bellamy’s gaze on her. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t look at her with pity. His slightly raised eyebrow, his slightly parted mouth, the hand that he placed firmly on her knee - it all conveyed to her a message she was eternally grateful for: _if you need me, I’m here._

But everyone else’s looks were the reason that Clarke hadn’t told anyone about today.

She showed up late by about ten minutes; Finn wasn’t there yet.

Of course.

The last few days her mind combed over her memories of their relationship. She had referred to Finn as the perfect boyfriend, but looking back, all the happy memories were riddled with disdain.

She hadn’t realized how their conversations always found a way to be about him. How conversations about feelings were always about his feelings. She noticed that whenever they were with a group of friends, he’d latch onto her and try to get her away, always keeping on the edge. She hated the way he’d sit at movies or talk down to her or freaking chewed.

She hated the way he’d treat Jasper and Monty like children - and not in the affectionate way that she did. She hated how he treated Bellamy, and how he always complained to her about him. She hated-

She hated that stupid look on his face when he showed up thirty minutes late.

“Clarke,” Finn tried to hug her but she held up her hands. He sat down across from her, eyeing her carefully, “I broke up with Raven.”

“That's what your opening up with?” Clarke was incredulous. How could she have put up with six months of this?

“You’re the one I really want to be with,” Finn said, ignoring her, “I never loved her the way I love you.”

Her previous relationships had ended poorly too. Wells, her high school sweetheart. Lexa, her college girlfriend. Both had gone down in flames.

This one would too.

“If that’s what you have to say then we’re done here,” Clarke stood up, “ _We’re_ done, Finn.”

Finn stood up to block her path, “Clarke, you have to listen to me- I’m _in_ love with you-”

“So?” Clarke snapped, taking a step back, “this whole conversation has been about you and what you want but you obviously don’t care enough since you showed up _late_. You haven’t even _once_ apologized - now or in all your desperate voicemails and texts - have apologized.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Well, it’s a little fucking late for that,” Clarke stormed past him and out the train station doors.

She hopped on the first Circulator bus that arrived. She must still look as pissed as she felt, from all the weird - some scared - looks she was getting.

She knew she had picked the café at Penn Station for a reason.

Clarke got off the bus and entered the Walters Art Museum. She’d been there countless, countless times. But she could get lost in there every time.

She wandered about, gazing at all the sculptures she knew like the back of her hand. She found her way to their recreation of a medieval hall, complete with a long table. On the table was a set of chess and checkers.

Definitely not medieval, but Clarke liked it. She sat down in front of the chessboard and began to play against herself. She just needed something to take her mind off of Finn.

The black pieces were winning over the white pieces when a hand reached down and turned the tide in favor of the white side.

Bellamy slid down onto the bench in front of her, raising an eyebrow as if to say your move.

“You following me?” It came out harsher than Clarke meant, but she couldn't blame herself for that, really.

“No,” Bellamy said simply, not struck by her tone, “I just had a feeling that you’d be here.”

Clarke felt herself relax a little, and mouthed to him: _"thank you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	2. part ii

Clarke had blocked his number and his email address but that didn’t stop Finn. It had been almost two weeks since her break up with him, and he must have sent her over two thousand messages. She blocked the new number every time but he always found a new one, and she had already given up on blocking the email addresses.

And even though he hadn’t shown up at her apartment yet, she still jumped every time there was a knock on the door.

But when she checked out the peephole it thankfully wasn’t him.

“You need to learn how to answer your phone, I’ve called you like four times to tell you I was here,” Bellamy said when she opened the door.

Clarke blushed. She had just assumed it was Finn again. “Sorry,” she said before locking the door.

Tonight was another dinner at Lincoln and Octavia’s and Clarke hoped it would be back to normal. She had already told Octavia about what happened with Finn, which meant that they all knew. Last weeks had been slightly better, but still uneasy.

Tonight was also Clarke’s turn to pick up the food, which meant that it was also Bellamy’s, since Clarke didn’t have a car and carrying five pizzas along the Circulator proved difficult (never again, Clarke had vowed).

“So,” Bellamy said when they got to his car, “What’ll it be today?”

Clarke thought for a moment, “Mongolian.”

Bellamy gave her a strange look, “Clarke, you hate Mongolian.”

But Clarke didn’t back down, and Bellamy just sighed and mumbled something along the lines of “suit yourself” and got in the car.

* * *

Clarke and Finn had never been friends. They had starting dating shortly after they met.

She’d met him when we was in the Inner Harbor with Bellamy and Octavia. Once there though, Octavia said she forgot she had something to do and left hurriedly. Clarke had thought that was strange since it was her idea, that night, to come out here. Bellamy had just looked irritated at his sister, like he’d been expecting this.

It was March, and winter had hit the state hard. Clarke leaned against one of the light posts next to the water while Bellamy went to grab them some hot chocolate.

Her phone had buzzed with a text from Octavia, asking her how was it going. Clarke thought that was strange, too. Octavia was just acting really, really odd lately. Bellamy, too, but at least his oddness was a lot more subdued.

The bitter cold nipped at her nose, which lead to a sneeze and her phone slipping out of her gloved hands and onto the frozen harbor below, too far out of reach.

Clarke looked back for Bellamy but the crowd had thickened around the stand and all the wool hats looked the same to her.

She sat down on the edge, preparing to slowly settle herself down onto the ice, when a stranger sat down next to her.

“Let me.”

Clarke blinked at him, “No, don’t-”

But he was already down on the ice, sliding towards her phone. It was like he was floating through space or something.

It was a miracle the ice didn’t crack beneath him.

The stranger also managed to get out of harbor by himself.

“Thank you-” Clarke stopped short though when he began going through her phone, “Hey- what are you doing?”

“Giving you my number, princess,” he gave her her phone back, “and I’m hoping you’ll use it.” He winked and walked away.

Bellamy arrived then, two steaming cups in hand. “Who was that guy?”

Clarke looked down at her phone, to the contact information still on her screen.

“Clarke?”

“Hmm?”

Her and Bellamy were seated at one of tables at BangBang Mongolian Grill waiting for their take out order. Bellamy was looking at her with mild concern.

“I said your name like, five times.”

Clarke shook her head, “Sorry, just zoned out- what did you-?”

Her name was called then and she gave a hand motion to Bellamy that meant hang on. How their order managed to fit into three bags was beyond her.

“Okay, let’s-” Clarke began to say, but her cell phone ringing cut her off.

She tried to reach for it, to silence it, but she was holding too many damned bags. And Bellamy - god, Bellamy - misunderstood her motion, so he picked it up and answered it.

“Hello?”

Clarke didn’t need Bellamy’s expression of pure disgust to know who it was.

“She’s busy at the moment, I’m afraid,” Bellamy said in a clipped tone, “you know, not dating you. So stop calling.” He hung up the phone and turned to her, “Clarke…”

“Food's getting cold,” was all she replied with before heading out the door.

Bellamy was right on her heals, and took two of  the bags from her arms.

“I thought you’d have blocked his number.”

Clarke kept her eyes on the sidewalk in front of her. She didn’t need to see Bellamy’s face to know how it looked: eyes concerned, with his brows smushed together, his mouth slightly open like he was about to say something.

“I did,” Clarke said, “He has an arsenal of them.”

“How often?” he asked as they reached his car.

Clarke snorted, “Why do think I never look at my phone anymore?”

Bellamy’s fists clenched tighter around the handles of the bags. “That _jackass_ \- Clarke, I _swear-”_

“Bell, it’s fine,” Clarke placed a hand on his shoulder, and she could feel him relax a bit under his touch, “I’m sure he’ll give up eventually.”

“But it’s been-” Bellamy stopped short and sighed, “If you want my help, I'm willing to break the law a little bit.”

Clarke laughed and step on her tip toes so that she could wrap him into a one-armed hug, “Thanks, but come on, the food really is getting cold.” 

* * *

The quote unquote family dinners had started back when O had started college, and Bellamy, upon graduating from Georgetown, got an apartment with Miller who was still in his last year at UMBC. Bellamy had insisted that she’d come over and have a _real_ meal at least once a week instead of going to her dining hall.

He hadn’t meant to be feeding all of Octavia’s new friends as well. None of them went to the same school: how had she even met these people? There was Monty and Jasper, who went to Loyola; eventually, there had been _Lincoln_ (that had been an awkward night), who went to the big university that shared the same town as O’s small liberal arts; and before that, since the beginning, there had been Clarke, of ye old Johns-Hopkins.

It was hard to remember a time before Clarke.

And for her sake, he was glad that the get-together went off without a hitch. There was no more hovering or concern or tip-toeing around an elephant in the room. Clarke looked like she was actually having a good time, although she bristled a bit every time someone accused her of hating Mongolian food.

Now, the horde was crammed onto the couches arguing on what movie they were going to watch while Clarke gathered up all the trash.

“Thanks Mom,” Jasper said when Clarke took his box and she just rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen.

“Don’t just stand there, Bell.” Bellamy looked up; he was standing against the wall, beer in hand, watching them all with amusement. Octavia was giving him the look from her spot on Lincoln’s lap in the armchair. “Go help Clarke.”

Now it was Bellamy’s turn to roll his eyes as he pushed himself off the wall. No, no, he didn’t mention to Octavia that this was her apartment, that she should be the one cleaning up, probably.

No, he was _cool_ brother.

He went into the kitchen to find Clarke with a freshly opened beer, staring at the wall in her own little world.

Bellamy walked over and leaned against the counter next to her. He didn’t say anything. Clarke had that look on her face - the look that meant she was on the verge of speaking but hadn’t slowed down her racing thoughts yet.

“I’ve always loved Mongolian food,” Clarke paused to take a sip of her beer, “it was Finn who hated it.”

One of the sad things about relocating the dinners to Octavia’s place meant that he no longer could control who came, because if they were still at his, Finn would never have been allowed.

(He had never liked the guy, he tried for Clarke, but it proved impossible).

He recalled the first time Finn came over - it was also the first time that Bellamy had met him.

It had been Mongolian food. They never had it again.

Now he knew why.

Bellamy reached an arm around Clarke and placed his hand on her other arm, stroking her gently. Clarke leaned her head against him, and her warmth - her touch - made Bellamy’s stomach do back flips.

It _was_ difficult to remember a time when Clarke wasn’t a fixture in his life. Once she was in, she was in. She was this bright flame that never failed to light up the room. Until recently, that is.

And Bellamy was glad that she was beginning to shine again.

“Have a ever told you you’re the best, Bell?” Clarke murmured so low he almost missed it.

Back flips and cartwheels: his stomach was a real acrobat. “Oh, you could stand to mention it more.”

He gave her a little squeeze and pressed his face into the top of her head. She smelled like strawberries and acrylic paint-

“Did you just _sniff_ me?” Clarke asked in mock scandalized tone.

Bell rubbed his nose in her hair, “Yeah? So what if I did?”

Clarke laughed and pushed herself off the counter and turned to face him, “Seriously, the best,” Clarke smiled, and oh, her smile - “We should get back out there - I think the movie's starting.”

Clarke was holding out her hand, and he took it. 

But just as quickly did she drop it when the reentered the living room.

* * *

Clarke’s already asleep in the passenger seat of Bellamy’s car when he pulls up in front of her building.

Even though he’s drowsy and just wants his face in his pillow, he doesn’t really have the heart to wake her up.

He quietly shuts his door and opens her, unbuckling her and sliding an arm under her so that he’s carrying her bridal style.

“The things I do for you, Clarke,” he mutters, and she nuzzles her face into his chest.

Bellamy stops just before entering the building and turns around. He could have sworn he heard someone…? But there wasn’t anyone as far as he could tell. Still, he holds onto Clarke tighter as he made his way up to her floor.

He yanked her covers back with one hand before setting her on the bed. He removed her shoes, tucked her in, and sat on the edge of the bed.

Of course she snores.

Bellamy leaned down towards her, and then hesitated for a moment, before planting a kiss to her forehead.

“‘Night, Clarke,” he whispered, and Bellamy could have sworn he saw a small smile grace her face. 

As he walked out of the building he thought about how he wished he could do that when she was awake.

* * *

_(2:14 PM) Clarke:_ are you free tomorrow after you get off work??

Bellamy gets her text in the middle of his spiel on Julius Caesar. He had forgotten to put his phone on silent which elicited several _oooo’s_ from his class.

He was expecting Octavia, or maybe even Jasper, but it’s Clarke - Clarke, who never texts him when he’s at work.

 _(2:20 PM) Bellamy:_ define after?

He puts his phone on vibrate before resuming the lecture. It’s hard to focus though, because the phone vibrates several more times but he can’t check it.

Then the bell - bless that bell - goes off and he doesn’t even get annoyed at all the kids that packed up before hand because that’s

 _(2:22 PM) Clarke_ : like right after

 _(2:22 PM) Clarke:_ I need to talk to you about something important

 _(2:23 PM) Clarke:_ meet me at the cafe by the gallery?

 _(2:40 PM) Clarke:_ ????

( _2:55 PM) Bellamy:_ sorry, had class

( _2:55 PM) Bellamy:_ I can be at 4 if no traffic 

 _(2:56 PM) Clarke:_!!!

* * *

Clarke was already seated at an outdoor table at the café when she got a text from Octavia.

 _(3:44 PM) Octavia:_ want to grab dinner?? Lincoln’s busy being a poo

 _(3:45 PM) Clarke:_ sorry, meeting bell

 _(3:46 PM) Octavia:_ without me?? wow rude

 _(3:46 PM) Octavia:_ wait wait wait

 _(3:36 PM) Octavia:_ ;)

Clarke checked the time on her watch - it was almost four, he should be here any minute. She was anxious to talk to Bellamy - she kept playing with the corner of the flyer in her hand. He was going to be so excited -

“Clarke?”

Clarke’s head spun around and the smile fell off her face.

 _“Finn?”_ she gaped at him, “What are you doing here?”

He looks her over and she feels uncomfortable under his gaze (she really wished she hadn’t worn something so low-cut today).

“Can I join you?” He asked as he pulls out the other chair.

“What-? _No-_ ” Clarke said as she jumped out of her chair, “I don’t want-”

“We need to talk, Clarke,” Finn insisted, “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you-”

“There’s nothing left to say-”

“We’re not done-”

“I’m done-”

Finn grabs her arm and her hands clench into fists - shit the flyer -

“Let go of me.”

“You need to listen-”

“Don’t touch me-”

“Clarke, just listen to me _dammit_ -” 

A hand from behind Clarke grabs Finn’s arm hard and he let’s go with a wince of pain. Clarke stumbles back away from Finn and into someone’s chest.

There’s Bellamy, looking murderous.

* * *

“She said no, asshole.”

When Bellamy was approaching the cafe, he hadn’t seen Finn at first. He just saw a blonde woman that was unmistakably Clarke standing near one of the tables. His eagerness quickly turned into urgency though when he saw who she was talking too.

Finn glared at Bellamy and yanked his arm back. “Beat it, Blake. This is between me and Clarke-”

He reached for Clarke’s hand but Bellamy put his arm around Clarke’s shoulders and pull her back. He felt her arm slide around his waist and give him a small squeeze.

“Like she’s told you a million times, she’s over you.” He gets more worked up as he goes on. “So stop calling her, stop texting her, stop harassing her. She’s moved on. She said she doesn’t want to see you anymore.”

The hand that he has on her arm is stroking her lightly, comfortingly. Finn sees and it makes him look even redder than he was from just Bellamy’s words alone.

“Seriously, Clarke?” Finn snapped, “You’re with _him_ now?”

Clarke tenses under Bellamy’s arm, “Finn-”

“How long has this been going on?” Finn’s yelling has drawn much more attention from the surrounding tables than Bellamy’s had. “Were _you-”_

“The only cheater here is you, Finn.” Clarke’s words are like daggers.

“She’s happier now without you,” Bellamy cuts Finn off before he has a chance to say anything, “respect that and get out of here before I make you.”

Finn sighs heavily through his nose - and Bellamy imagines fire coming out of them like the devil, “I thought you were better than this, Clarke.”

Bellamy steers Clarke around back towards his car at the end of the block before Finn can say anything else. Finn doesn’t follow, which Bellamy is half grateful for, half disappointed in (oh, cause if the bastard had tried to come after them there would be nothing stopping him from knocking him to the ground).

Clarke doesn’t say a word as she gets into his truck, nor does she speak as he drives away. It’s Friday, so she doesn’t have to go back to work. He knows in a time like this Clarke won’t want to be in her apartment.

Bellamy parks the car and goes around to let Clarke out. She immediately takes his hand as he leads her into Patterson Park.

Clarke still hasn’t spoken and they’ve been sitting down in front of the Pagoda in the middle of the park for a few minutes.

His phone keeps ringing but Bellamy turns it off without looking at it - right now Clarke needs his full undivided attention.

They sit there quietly, his arm around her, for a few more moments before she speaks.

“Thank you, Bellamy,” Clarke tilts her head to look up at him, “you had really great timing.”

Bellamy gives her a small smile, “What can I say, I’m just that great.”

Clarke gives a small laugh and leans into him more, “Maybe now that Finn thinks were dating he’ll finally leave me alone.”

Bellamy’s glad that Clarke isn’t looking at him right now, because he doesn’t want her to see the blush that creeps up on his cheeks.

“Yeah…” Bellamy said, stroking her hair, and he feels the strong need to change the subject (because he and Clarke? Dating? He isn’t sure he can keep his cool talking about that), “oh, what was it you wanted to tell me about?”

Clarke leans up from him, and smoothes out a piece of paper that was in her fist. She sniffles a little and wipes her eye. “Oh, this,” she hands him the paper, “there’s this new artist coming to the gallery, I thought you’d like…”

He can’t make out the name of the artist due to the crumpling, but he can read the description. It is for an exhibition of recreations and modern renditions of Greek Art.

“I thought you’d like to come to the opening with me,” Clarke said, “since I’m allowed to bring a guest and all…”

Bellamy looks up and he’s sure he’s grinning like an idiot, “I’d love to, this sounds really cool Clarke. Thanks for showing me this.”

Bellamy’s glad to see that he’s managed to get Clarke to smile. Though it’s fleeting, because once she looks down at her watch it turns into a frown.

“Five already?” She seems far off, “I’m probably keeping you-”

Bellamy chuckled softly, “You aren’t keeping me from anything.” Her shoulders relax a little, “Come on, we should probably get something to eat since we were so rudely prevented earlier.”

Clarke’s quiet. It pains him, the way she’s looking at him, with sad eyes that look uneasy.

“Bell…” Clarke began, uncertainly, “do you mind if I… stay at your place tonight?”

He’s sure his face conveys a surprised look, because then she rushes: “I mean, if it isn’t too much trouble, I just don’t think I can be alone right now - if that’s okay with you.”

“Clarke, _Clarke_ ,” Bellamy reassured her, “of course you can, whenever you want.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “let’s go grab some takeout and a tub of ice cream.”

Growing up with Octavia, he knows exactly what’s required in these types of situations. Knowing Clarke, he found out that she’s the same way.

“Yea- yeah,” Clarke said, and there’s the tiniest bit of color in her cheeks, “yeah, that sounds perfect.

(Bellamy also thinks it’s perfect the way that her hand fits into his as they walk back to his truck).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter ending up being nearly twice as long as the first? That hadn't been my intention and I actually thought some of this stuff in the beginning was in the last chapter. 
> 
> (that's what happens when you wait two weeks to update).  
> \----  
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	3. part iii

Bellamy had forgotten to pull the curtains closed in the living room the night before. So much for sleeping in on a Saturday.

Last night after he and Clarke got back to his apartment from, they stayed up late on his couch and binged watched Brian Games on Netflix and ate out of a tub of ice cream. When Clarke crashed around one, Bellamy had carried her to his bed and tucked her in before collapsing back on the couch so fast he hadn’t actually got a blanket out.

The clock on the wall said eight am and Bellamy groaned so loud he stopped himself to make sure he didn’t wake up Clarke.

Bellamy stumbled to the kitchen sink and splashed some water in face to wake himself up.

Clarke could sleep for hours, but she was also a light sleeper, so Bellamy really couldn’t sneak into his room get a change of clothes from his pajamas, or even his bookbag so he could grade papers. He couldn’t even charge his cell phone, which was dead.

So there was only one thing he could do.

Make a gigantic breakfast.

(Clarke’s had a rough week, she deserves that).

(Frankly, so does he).

When he’s got the first waffle out of the iron, there’s a pounding on his door.

“Hang on hang on,” He mutters as he rushes over, “Jeez-”

As soon as he’s got the door unlocked, it’s pushed open and the person rushes in.

“I can’t believe this!” It’s Octavia, going off like a gun, “I can’t believe I had to find out from Jasper!”

“O-”

“I’m your sister and you didn’t tell me? Wouldn’t even answer your phone!”

“Octavia-”

She doesn’t even acknowledged him, instead storming around like a rolling freight train and barreling into the kitchen.

“You’re making _quiche!?_ ” She nearly yells as she peers into the oven, “and waffles?”

“O, can you quiet down-”

“You’re actually cooking. Like really cooking. Holy shit-”

“Octavia,” he snaps, “you need to quiet down, you’ll-”

“What’s going on?”

The siblings turn towards the kitchen doorway. There’s Clarke, in a pair of Bellamy’s baggy pajamas, a hand in her messy hair, a wide yawn across her face.

Bellamy’s eyes glance towards his sister, and he’s sees her jaw is dropping.

“It’s about damn time!” He sees Clarke flinch at Octavia’s volume. “I’m so happy but I’m still mad at you guys!” She slams the door behind her.

Always the flare for the dramatic.

“What was that about?” Clarke groggily asks, “do I smell quiche?”

* * *

Bellamy was a saint. A literal saint. Broccoli quiche? Waffles with whip cream and strawberries? _Banana bread?_

Bellamy was definitely her favorite Blake; especially after Octavia woke her up this morning.

“So,” Clarke asks between delicious bites, “do you know what she was talking about?”

Bellamy looks distracted as he shakes his head. She wishes they could just enjoy breakfast together without anyone or anything of the outside world yelling at them.

“Is my charger in my room?” he asks then.

Clarke blinks, “Yeah, where it always is.”

Bellamy gets up and goes to his room, back a minute later.

“How are you feeling?” He then asks. Clarke can see the tension in his body. His knee is bouncing rapidly.

“I’m better, thanks to you,” she says, “but are you okay?”

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair, “I have a hunch, about O,” his hand comes to rest on his chin, “my phone needs to charge first.”

Clarke hums in understanding, and silence falls. The anticipation is too much to handle, it’s like another person sitting at the small table with them.

Maybe five minutes had gone by when Bellamy jumped out of his chair and down the hall, then back again with phone in hand.

“Bell?” He was seriously worrying her now.

Sighing, he slid the phone across the table towards her. “Finn and Jasper work in the same building, remember?”

At first, the statement didn’t really mean anything to her. So what if they worked together? But she saw what he saw. Dozens and dozens of text messages all asking one thing: _You and Clarke are dating?! Since when??!??!_

“Oh,” she said, rather dumbly, then more insistently, “ _oh_.”

Clarke rushed quickly out to grab her own phone, and when she turned it on, she saw the same thing. She had dozens and dozens of messages all asking the same thing.

Although… she didn’t have a single message from Finn.

“What are you smiling about?” Bellamy asks her then.

She slides her phone to him: “Note what’s missing.”

It took Bellamy a moment, but a smile graced his face when he got her meaning.

“It’s a nice breather,” Clarke said as Bellamy handed her back her phone, “he’ll probably send me like, a hundred or something though when we clear this up.”

She took another bite of her quiche - it was delicious, Bellamy really needs to cook more often - and she hadn’t noticed the silence until she felt Bellamy’s eyes on her.

When she looked up, he was looking at her a little sheepishly. “What?” she asked.

“Maybe…” Bellamy said, scratching the back of his head, “we shouldn’t clear this up?”

Clarke nearly choked on her quiche, and Bellamy waved his hands quickly, “No, I mean, he’s finally leaving you alone?” Bellamy fidgeted with his hands - he always played with the skin between his thumb and forefinger when he got nervous - “Maybe we should just pretend to date so he’ll finally leave you alone.”

Clarke swallowed, “Finn should just like, actually respect my decision not to date him.”

“I know!” Bellamy nodded vigorously, “but he’s an ass, and doesn’t, so we have to play dirty.”

Clarke didn’t want to point out the odd connection between _fake dating_ and _playing dirty_. She didn’t think she’d be able to keep her composure if she did.

“It’s only been one day though,” Clarke said, “What if he’s just busy?”

Bellamy shrugged, “then we come clean, and you change your name and move to Canada.”

Clarke thought about it. I mean, it wouldn’t be that hard to pretend to date Bellamy. They hang out all the time; there would just be more physical contact in public….

“You know we’d have to lie to all our friends, right?” It was honestly Clarke’s last objection. It’s not like she was adamant about not doing his plan but - she didn’t want to hold him back or anything. “There’s no way they’d be able to play along if they knew the truth.”

Bellamy nodded, “Yeah, but it’d be fun though to mess with them,” Bellamy scratched at his stubble (she never noticed how good Bellamy looks with stubble?), “I mean, I’d tell Octavia, she’d never forgive us for lying to her.”

Clarke bit her lip, and Bellamy cocked his head to the side, “what, is the idea of pretending to date me so appalling?”

Clarke chuckled and stood up from the table with her empty dishes in hand, and Bellamy followed suit. After putting the dishes in the sink Clarke turned to face Bellamy.

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Bellamy recoiled a bit, “I mean, I want to _help_ -”

Clarke wrapped her arms around Bellamy’s middle and laid her head on his chest, “Thanks, Bell. You’re the best, you know that?”

Bellamy’s body rumbled with laughter. His hand was on the back on her head, and she felt only the slightest pause before he placed a kiss down onto the top of her head.  
They weren’t doing anything different than they normally would, but somehow this action immediately felt more charged than it would have a moment ago.  
But Clarke didn’t have much to worry about, right? It’s not like things would be that different…

Oh.

_Oh…?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late (like months oops) update. This chapter is shorter than the others but that's because I got stuck again but wanted to put something up. Writers block is winding down though so I am hoping to finish this before the year ends. I'm estimating about five more chapters? (I already have two of them written but they are the last two lol).
> 
> Also I started a new story! It's a friends with benefits/secret relationship one and it should be updated regularly.
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	4. part iv

Since Bellamy didn’t have a facebook, their whole fake dating thing was pretty easy.

Well, as easy as lying to your friends can be.

“You ready?” Bellamy asked. 

They were standing in front Octavia and Lincoln’s door; it was their first weekly friend group dinner since this whole lie started. They had to really convince them, but somehow Clarke didn’t think that be too hard.

“Yeah,” Clarke said, but the shakiness in her voice betrayed her. Bellamy gives her a small reassuring smile, before he moves to knock on the door.

His hand doesn’t even touch it before the door swings open and Octavia is grinning at them like crazy.

Bellamy groans, “You we peeping.”

“I deserve this, Bellamy,” Octavia says, and takes his hand, dragging him inside with Clarke trailing along.

Bellamy and Clarke were usually the first people to Octavia’s if they weren’t getting food, and they showed up at their usual time, but everyone was already here. 

Waiting for them.

Clarke isn’t one to get stage fright, but she does get a little nervous under a spotlight.

“There they are!” Jasper jumps out of his seat when he sees them and tackles them both into a hug. He inhales deeply, almost like he’s trying to breathe them in. “I knew this day would come. The planets have aligned. The California drought is over. My crops are flourishing. I am at peace.”

“All weird metaphors aside,” Monty says from his seat at the table, “we’re really happy for you guys, don’t let Jasper’s creepiness ruin it.”

“Oh, give them crap for it,” Octavia says as she comes back to the kitchen with a bottle of wine, “They hid it from us, this is the cost.”

Bellamy snorts, “I knew you’d make a big deal out of it, O. And look, I was right.”

They stick their tongues out each other, and it’s one of those moments when she wished she had sibling.

Clarke’s really thankful for Bellamy taking the lead on this. Clarke wound stumble over her words and everyone would catch on within five minutes. But they are almost done with the dinner Lincoln had cooked special for the occasion, and Bellamy’s managed to either give a satisfying answer or just flat out deflect to the group’s questions.

“Want I want to know though is how it finally happened,” Octavia says around a mouthful of Spaghetti, “I was beginning to lose hope that’d you’d ever make a move, Bell.”

Clarke tries not think too hard on Octavia’s words. Everyone always tried to push them together, insisting that both had feelings for the other. Maybe that’s why it has been so easy to pull off so far. But Bellamy and her, they’re best friends. Their interactions are normal for best friends. 

Bellamy sighs, but he’s got this fond smile on his face, “I was over at her place one night, and she had promised to watch Drunk History with me. But she forgot, she was in the zone painting, she didn’t even notice I was in the apartment until she accidentally sat on me.”

Clarke blushes furiously. She remembers that night, it was only a few days before she had met Finn at the Java Moon. She hadn’t forgot about her and Bellamy’s plans, per se, she just lost track of time. She’d been working on that piece for several hours, she just finished and she wanted nothing more than to just crash down on the couch since her bed was covered in supplies. 

She had freaked out when she had landed on Bellamy, yelping, and squirming away. But his arms wrapped around had wrapped around her waist, to keep her there. His laugh reverberating through her body.

“She was looking at me like a deer in headlights,” Bellamy laughed softly, and he took her hand under the table, “she had this smudge of blue paint on her nose and I just- I  couldn’t help it okay? I just kissed her.”

Clarke remembers when she finally managed to crane her head around to face him. She was breathing heavily, and so was he, but as they slowed down something in his eyes changed. He held her a little tighter, things were swirling all around in Clarke’s head-

Then her stomach growled, breaking the moment. Bellamy had begun to fussy over her, reprimanding her for forgetting to eat all day.

Clarke was surprised that he had picked an actual moment that had happened as the foundation for their cover. Such a charged moment and - 

If her stomach hadn’t growled…

She doesn’t let herself think about what ifs.

Bellamy squeezes her hand. She looks up at him, and gives him a small smile.

-

Later, she’s on the couch next to Lincoln and Miller, watching Monty cream Jasper in some Mario Party minigame.

When she gets up to take her empty glass (her third, actually, she’s been nervous) to the kitchen she stops short of the entry way though. Bellamy’s helping Octavia with the dishes, or really, Bellamy’s doing the dishes while Octavia talks his ear off. And Clarke hears something she may not be supposed to hear.

“Clarke didn’t say much tonight,” Octavia says, and Clarke can’t help herself from tuning in. 

She can hear Bellamy sigh and set a dish down, “She’s still healing from, Finn, okay? It’ll take time before she’s comfortable with all-” Bellamy’s probably making weird, indiscernible hand gestures “-so give her some.”

“She’s still comfortable around you though.”

“Well - yeah. She’s my best friend, she knows that,” Bellamy says, “not much has changed, really.”

They are silent for a moment, and Clarke is debating or not whether to enter now when she hears Bellamy’s voice again.

“Do you want to grab lunch tomorrow when I get off work? Just the two of us?” Bellamy asks his sister, “There’s something I need to talk to you about just - not here okay?”

“Is Clarke pregnant?” 

Clarke does a double take, nearly stumbling backwards at just the question - the thought has got her thinking all kinds of things-

Then she hears the sound of a towel snapping and Octavia going, “hey! I was joking, lighten up. There’s no way you’ve had sex yet, you’d be glowing for  _ days _ .”

Clarke blushes, and then. She can’t take this anymore. She can’t go back with her empty glass, so she gathers herself and heads into the kitchen.

“Jesus, O. Do you really-?” Bellamy stops when he sees her, “Hey, you almost ready?”

“Yeah,” she says and goes over to put her glass in the sink. He snakes an arm around her and leans right into his side.

He’s right, not much really has changed.

A flash goes off and sends Clarke in a daze.

“Octavia-”

“I didn’t mean for the flash to go off-”

“It’s still not okay even if it was off-”

“The people have a right to know!”'

"You're _posting_ that-?"

Clarke sighed. It was times like this she was really glad she didn’t have a sibling.

* * *

Bellamy always did have the habit of making things worse for himself.

He was recalling the night before when he finally left Clarke’s place to go home. Another soft, sleepy smile. Another kiss on her forehead that she wouldn’t remember.

How did he always get into situations that would no doubt kill him?

Like right now, having lunch with Octavia.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Octavia asks after the waitress has left with their order. 

“It’s about Clarke.”

Octavia snorted, “I figured. What about her? Please tell me you’re not proposing, I know you’ve been in love with her for forever, but you have been dating less than a month-”

“We’re not dating.” Rip the bandage off, hope for the best.

Octavia blinked at him. “What?”

“We’re not really dating. It’s fake,” Bellamy pushed on through, willing himself not to get nervous under his sister’s searing gaze, “Finn saw us together and thought we were together, and then told all of you, and you thought. Finn’s finally leaving Clarke along, now that he thinks she’s with me.”

Octavia was silent for a long moment. The dangerous kind of silence, with the narrowed eyes and tight jaw. This only meant trouble.

“I’m going to kill her,” Octavia grounds out, “How can she just use you like this? She has a problem, she needs to figure it out, not mess with my brother-”

“It was my idea.”

Octavia stops and that. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“I had a feeling I was, yes.”

“You offer to fake-date your best friend, who you’ve been in love with for years now, instead of just asking her out on a real date.”

“It may not be my best plan. I’m optimistic.”

“I don’t like this,” Octavia shakes her head, “You’re going to get yourself hurt. She’s using you, and you’re going to get this wonderful fantasy, and then she’s not going to need this ruse anymore and then what, huh?”

“Octavia-”

“No, Bell, listen to me.” Octavia says in a voice that sounds dangerously like their mother’s. “I love Clarke, I do. But this is bullshit. She may be oblivious to you and what she’s doing, but she’s still playing with you and I don’t like it. It’s not fair to you. And it was your dumb idea and you’re going to have to live with the consequences, and I’m not going to help you out of them.”

Bellamy sighed. The tension was palpable between the two siblings, even their waitress noticed as she gingerly set down their food and backed away without the standard offering of anything else.

“I just want Clarke to be happy again,” Bellamy says. And it’s true. Maybe Clarke will realize that he loves her, and that they work together, and maybe she won’t. But Finn will get off her back, and she’ll have uninterrupted time to heal and move on.

“Don’t you think you deserve to be happy too?” Octavia challenges. 

“I am, Octavia.” He could be happier, infinitely, if it was real. But Bellamy was content with just being Clarke’s friend, her fake boyfriend, just being there for her. “For now.” Octavia stabbed her salad with her fork.

Bellamy rubbed his face. “And you can’t tell anyone else about this. This has got to work.”

“I’m telling Lincoln.”  Bellamy shouldn’t have expected anything different. “And when this goes wrong, don’t come to me. I’m tired of your lack of self-preservation.”

Bellamy sighed and took a bite of his food. They ate in silence for a while, and then Bellamy’s phone buzzed with a text.

It was Clarke, she had sent him a picture of a paperclip sculpture of a horse she’d made at work. 

Bellamy smiled at it, but he also felt this little pang in his chest. He hoped Octavia was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 3-4 chapters left I think! Still trying to decide the order of some events.
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	5. part v

Clarke had set that photo Octavia had taken of her and Bellamy as her lock screen. It wasn’t because it was to keep up with the whole dating thing, it was because he was he best friend and it was a really cute picture.

(No other feelings at all).

It had gotten more likes that Clarke would have expected, and even more comments with things like  _ finally _ , and  _ it’s about time _ , and  _ I knew it!  _ Followed by this really long thread of replies that wasn’t even about them as far as she could tell (it was so long, there was no way she could find the beginning).

What really caught her eye though, when she was looking through who had liked the post, was that  _ Abby Griffin _ was on that list.

At first she was confused, her mom and Octavia aren’t facebook friends, but then she remembered that Octavia had zero privacy setting and that she was tagged in it.

She’s at work when her cell finally rings, turning that picture of her and Bellamy into an old, grainy one of her and her mother from when Clarke was a kid. It was one of the last photos of them happy together. She couldn’t stomach looking at any of those stiff and obligatory pictures they take every year for those Christmas cards her mother sent out to her business colleagues every year. They just depressed Clarke.

It’s been three days since the photo was posted, and she’s honestly surprised her mother took this long.

“Hey mom,” Clarke answers.

“Clarke,” her mother was never one for greetings, “Do you have a minute? Are you at work.”

“I am, but it’s a slow day, so I’m all yours,” Clarke leans back in her chair and attempts to balance a pencil on her nose, “what’s up?”

Her mother clears her throat. Clarke can tell she’s uncomfortable, and her mother probably knows that Clarke knows exactly what is up, but.

Her mother never liked Bellamy. She’d be polite the few times that they were together, but her mother would always give Clarke a look, like  _ do you really want to be around him  _ and  _ why _ . That lingering you could do with better friends that had her screaming at her mother and ending their truce in favor of three more months of silence before her mother had finally reached out again. But years have passed, and while her mother hasn’t really warmed up to him, she respects him, and she has accepted that he isn’t going to be gone from Clarke’s life.

“When were you going to tell me about Bellamy?” 

Clarke lets the moment drag out for a bit. She’s being petty, making her mother squirm, but she doesn’t care at the moment. “Believe it or not, I was planning on telling you soon, like before the internet would know, but then Octavia happened.” It is technically a lie, because her mother nor anyone else outside of her friendship circle was supposed to know. 

“You hadn’t even told me about you and Finn being over,” Her mother says, “I thought you were planning on moving in with him.”

Clarke’s pencil slips from her nose and onto the floor. She slides her chair back and gets on her knees under her desk. She should really clean down here more, there’s a lot of crap down here, and none of which appears to be her pencil.

“I didn’t mention anything becuase I- I was embarrassed okay?” Clarke’s getting more annoyed down under her desk, getting dust bunnies up her nose. “He cheated on me. Or rather, he was using me to cheat on his long time girlfriend.”

“Oh,” her mother sounds genuinely upset, “that’s awful. I’m so sorry Clarke, I know you really liked him.”

Her mother would think that, but looking back on it, Clarke honestly can’t name what she had liked about Finn. He had made her laugh, he was supportive, for a while. He hadn’t died on her, and he didn’t seem like the person who would get up and leave with barely an explanation. He was sweet, and safe. She was playing it safe, and she still had gotten hurt.

“I know,” she lied, “but I’m with Bellamy now and it’s - he’s great mom. I really like him, more than I already did.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, Clarke,” her mom says, and Clarke can sense that her mother is being genuine, and despite it being based on a lie, Clarke can’t help but feel a little light of affection for her. “Maybe, you and Bellamy could come up for-”

A chime on the door happens just as she finds her pencil, “I’d like that mom, really, but someone just came in and I got to go, I’ll call you later?”

“Goodbye honey.”

Clarke just hung up and hauled herself back up, “Welcome, how can I-?”

“Do you always answer your phone calls from under your desk?”

Clarke can’t help but smile as Bellamy leans towards her from across the desk. He reaches out and pulls a dustbunny out of her hair.

“My mother, asking when I was going to tell her about us,” Clarke says and Bellamy blanches, “also asking when I broke up with Finn, since I also never told her about that.”

“And what did you tell her?” He’s a little nervous - he still is, around her mother even though he’s willing to fight her.

“That I’m happy now.”

Bellamy grins at her, “Yeah?”

“Clarke.” She turns to find her boss, coming over. “Is he here to look at the  _ Champs de Papillon _ ?” 

“No, Dante,” Clarke really rather call him Mr. Wallace, but he insists so she goes with it, “This is my boyfriend, Bellamy.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Bellamy sticks it out and Dante shakes his hand, “I was hoping I could steal Clarke away early today, if she isn’t busy.”

Dante regards him coolly, but then smiles and gives one of those old-man chuckles that Clarke hasn’t decided yet if they’re enduring or creepy. “I suppose you could, since you’re the first one in here today.” He turns towards Clarke, “Set your phone to forward all calls back to my office, and then you’re free to go.” He turns back to Bellamy one last time, “I suppose I’ll see you at the next opening, then. It was nice to meet you Bellamy.”

“You, too sir.” Bellamy says, and he looks excited thinking about the opening. Clarke’s glad.

Once they leave the building, he throws an arm around her shoulder and she snakes one around his waist. He smells like he’s been at the library for hours, like crisp paper and aged leather. Clarke breathes him in.

“Whose smelling who now, huh?” Bellamy chuckles, sending a pleasant vibration though her body.

“Shut up,” she mutters, and he only laughs more, “so, why break me out early? Aren’t you supposed to be at work still?” It was only one in the afternoon. 

“Half day today,” He says, “Pretty boring when all you’re friends don’t got one. Figured I’d bust you out of jail so I could enjoy it.”

Clarke smiled and tucked her face into his side. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

“I’m thinking Grilled Cheese & Co?”

Clarke hums in an approval, “you know me so well.”

Bellamy squeezes her side, “‘course I do.”

And Clarke hadn’t really lied to her mother.

She was happy.

* * *

“How’d you managed to get cheese on your nose?” Clarke laughs as she reaches over to try and wipe it off but Bellamy jerks back out of her reach.

“How come you don’t have cheese on _ your _ nose?” He asks, “Seriously. This is an accomplishment. I’m winning.”

“Oh, so this is a contest?” 

“You’re never out of the game, Clarke.”

Clarke snorted and took another bite of her grilled cheese. Bellamy did wipe, the cheese off his nose himself, but she also noticed that his smiled was gone and replaced with a hard line.

“What is it?” Clarke asks, he’s thinking really hard about something that’s bothering him. He gets this little crease near the corner of his mouth when he does.

“I told Octavia the truth,” He says, and Clarke freezes.

She had forgot. She had forgot that they were fake dating since that phone call with her mother. She hadn’t even had to think about it when Wallace had asked her. Nothing was different it, they were acting normal. Like the best friends that they were. With all the jokes and banter and silly arguments and that touching and physical affection-

It was almost like they were really dating. Even she had been fooled by them.

(She vaguely wonders how long she would have forgotten about it if Bellamy hadn’t brought it up).

“Yeah?” She asks, because she’s nervous now, because Bellamy’s nervous.

“She wasn’t happy about,” Bellamy sighs, “she called me an idiot for a while. She… she doesn’t like all the lying and thinks we’re going to… unnecessary lengths.”

Clarke could tell that he wasn’t telling her everything, but Clarke knew better than to get between the Blake siblings, unless one dragged her in first, that is.

“She’s pretty pissed at both of us,” Bellamy says, more of an afterthought, “also, she said she was going to tell Lincoln, but other than him she’ll keep our, and I quote, “fucking shitshow” a secret.”

Clarke nodded and started down into her soup. She knew better than to get between the Blake siblings in their fights, but she also knew that you don’t want to be the cause of those fights.

“Look, Bellamy,” Clarke puts her sandwich down, “if this is-” She’s cut off when he gets a text messages. She gulps, “Is that her?”

Bellamy checks it, and snorts, “No, it’s Jasper.” Clarke can’t help but feel relieved. Octavia usually had uncanny timing, always popping up in someway - whether text or phone or person - when she was mentioned. “Apparently there’s a mechanical error on the light rail and he needs a ride.”

“He knows there’s a free bus system, right?” Clarke loves the circulator a lot. Sometimes the busses are full and she has to wait for the next one, and sometimes they are twenty minutes late, but she loves it. 

“Yeah, but he’d get lost,” Bellamy rolls his eyes at his phone and types out a reply, “The light rail’s easy for him cause there’s only one line. If he got on the bus he’d probably end up on the other side of the harbor.”

Clarke nods. He’s definitely right about that. Jasper has a terrible sense of direction, and scheduling for that matter.

Bellamy goes to get a to-go bag from the register, since they still have a Sweetest Thing they were going to split after they finished their own meals.

When he gets back he says, “look don’t worry about Octavia, okay? She’s stubborn, but she’ll come around.”

Clarke bit her lip. Octavia was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, but. Bellamy would never let Octavia take her anger out on her.

Clarke took his hand and squeezed, despite knowing that they didn’t need to put on a facade right now. She didn’t care.

Bellamy squeezed back.

* * *

They were waiting in his truck in front of Jasper’s building. And of course, Jasper would be late.

He wouldn’t have minded too much, since Clarke was with him, but she got another phone call, this time from her landlord and she’d been on it for ten minutes now. 

They’d been parked for fifteen.

Bellamy had forgotten an important detail about Jasper’s workplace, and when that detail came to light, he’s thankful for Clarke’s landlord distracting her.

Because there’s Finn, coming out of the building, talking to Jasper. 

And Finn sees them.

Bellamy has the window rolled down, and since it’s a one way street, he’s parked with driver side next to the sidewalk. Bellamy tries to adjust his body to completely shield Clarke - or even, shield Finn - from view. 

He glares at Finn, willing him to stay away. Finn’s glaring right back, and Jasper - who had been facing away - turns to see what the commotion is about.

Jasper lights up and waves, then turns back to Finn before darting off towards him.

Bellamy’s really glad that Finn doesn’t follow.

Jasper opens the back door and slides in, “You went to Grilled Cheese & Co.  _ without me _ ?”

“Hello to you, too.” Bellamy says as he pulls away from the curb.

Clarke then slams the phone shut and groans loudly.

Jasper groans in response and Clarke jumps and turns around, she hadn’t even realized that he was there.

“Oh, hey Jasper. Nice of you to finally be joining us.” Clarke deadpans.

“Lovely as ever, yes,” Jasper grins, then leans forward on the seat so that his head is between his and Clarke’s. “So what was that about.”

Clarke visibly deflates in the corner of his eye, “My landlord,” Clarke rubs her hand across her face, “my lease is up in three months and he’s demanding to know if I’m renewing now, even though I only have to give him a month's notice.”

“Would you  _ need _ to give notice?” Jasper asks. 

“Well-” Clarke cuts herself off, trying to form the words, “I had been sort of thinking of getting a new place? And he may have overheard me talking about that in the lobby, but like, I’m not really sure anymore, and he’s being an annoying dick about it.”

“You knoooooow,” Jasper rolls out, and Bellamy braces himself because he knows where this is going, “you two could just move in together.”

He sees Clarke freeze next to him. Bellamy tries to focus on driving, because watching her is for sure going to make him crash.

“That’s a little soon, Jasper.” Clarke says stiffly. 

“Well, technically, it’s three months from now-”

“We’re here.” Bellamy says, and he throws the car in park a little too quickly for it not to be smooth. “We’ll see you later.”

Jasper looks between them both, and slowly inches back away from them. He can take a hint at least, when it’s really obvious. 

He hurries to unbuckle and swing the door open, giving them a “Thanks Mom and Dad!” before slamming the door and scurrying off. 

Bellamy groans as he merges back into the lanes, “what are we going to do with that boy.”

Clarke shrugs, “Take away his DS, or have Miller revoke his Monty privileges.” 

“Oh yeah, Miller would take us up on that in a heartbeat.”

Clarke pauses for a moment. She leans her head on her arm, propped up by the window. “You know what I could use right now?”

When he stops at a red light he turns to look at her, “What?”

“Sense8 marathon,” Clarke says, with a nod to herself, “refresh it in my mind before the new season comes out.”

Bellamy nods back at her, “that’s sounds doable.”

Clarke nudges him, but backs off once the lights green, “I want to start with the episode with the orgy though. It’s really hot.”

Bellamy laughs, one of those deep ones where you throw your head back. A car honks at him, but he hadn't left swirved out of his lane, so.

“Whatever the hell you want, Clarke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grilled Cheese & Co. is a small Maryland restaurant chain that's menu consists only of Grilled Cheese sandwiches, soups, and salads. A Sweetest Thing is a grilled cheese sandwich made with "Brie, rasberry mascarpone spread & chocolate chips."
> 
> That actually sounds disgusting to me but I have a feeling that these two nerds would like it.
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	6. part vi

They hadn’t exactly meant to, but Clarke had slept over at his place way more than her own over the course of the past week.

They’d just be hanging out and lose track of time, and it would be way too late to drive. Usually they fell asleep together on the couch, but Bellamy usually woke up in the middle of the night and he’d carry her to his bed and tuck her in before heading back out to the couch.

Although this last night, Clarke had woken up just enough that she grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the bed with her. A mumbled, sleeply  _ stay _ coming off her lips.

He woke up with his arms wrapped up around her, and when he tightened them she gave this heavenly sigh and snuggled closer. 

He hadn’t wanted to get up, ever. But they both had work, and if he didn’t get Clarke up, she’d sleep like a log all throughout her shift.

This is when he noticed that Clarke’s things had slowly been accumulating themselves into his room. Extra changes of clothes, one of her many sketch books, and her toiletries even had their own place on his bathroom sink.

_ you two could just move in together _

Looking back at Clarke, sleeping peacefully on his bed, it sure felt like that. Like she was his real girlfriend, like they were actually living together. 

Octavia was right, he was setting himself up to get hurt, because when this was over, he was going to miss this.

He just had to make sure that when the fake part ended, the relationship didn’t stop. 

* * *

When Clarke had got home from work, there was a bouquet of flowers sitting on her counter. A dozen bright red roses, with those little white flowers - baby's breath maybe? some flowers just had weird names - all mixed in.

Clarke felt her cheeks go red. Bellamy must have slipped by when she was at work and dropped them off. Tonight was the night of the opening, he must be really excited.

Clarke was too.

But she was mostly anxious. So she cleaned a lot of things that she didn’t even need to, jumping around between tasks before they were even done. Wiping down part of the counter before washing the dishes from a few nights ago that were in the sink before taking out of the trash before she had even dried her hands.

This was the feeling she’d get, the nervousness, the unable to sit still, frantic feeling she’d get just before she had a first date.

The realization that that was what she was feeling only made it worst.

Thankful, she had had her outfit picked out over a week ago: a black cocktail dress with a shiny gold print that looked like brushstrokes. That saved her about… two hours of stressing. If only her hair was that simple.

She finally got it to cooperate the way she wanted it to. She had put it up in a bun at the back of her head with a braid coming down from along the side. She tried not to think about just had long it was taking her to play with the few strands that had been left out around her face, but. She had pretty much ran out of time.

Bellamy should be there any minute, and Clarke, in her nervous-excited-frantic state grabbed her coat and and headed down to wait for him on the curb. 

She stepped outside her building to see his car just pull up out front. 

She had opened the door and slid in before he had even put the car into park, and before she could over think it, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi,” Bellamy said a little breathless, “you look- you look beautiful, Clarke.” Clarke blushed, and Bellamy licked his lips. “I got these for you.”

Clarke noticed the bouquet of white lilies between them, “more flowers?” she asked again amused. Bellamy looked confused for a split second, but that faded into nothing when she kissed his cheek again.

She just couldn’t help it, okay? Sue her.

* * *

“Who even wears their collar like that? I don’t - I don’t even know how to describe that, he’s _flipped_ it over?”

Bellamy may have just met Cage Wallace, her boss’ brat son, for the first time. She’d honestly expected him to be annoyed and pick a fight, but they were already buzzed on champagne and Bellamy could barely contain his grin throughout the whole exchange.

“I just don’t get it,” Bellamy shakes his head, “rich people have so much money, and then they dress like _ that _ .”

Clarke laughs and covers her mouth. This old woman is shooting her a dirty look but she doesn’t care. She’s having a great night.

Bellamy’s arm has been a constant presence on her hip the whole night as they zigzagged in the art gallery, going from the pieces to the horderves table and repeatedly back to where they were serving the drinks. Clarke has learned from many of these fancy events, no matter how interested were in in the subject that was being celebrated, you were always better off tipsy.

Clarke couldn’t get over the warm feeling in her chest, and she was pretty sure that it was Bellamy’s fault. His suit was doing dangerous things to her, just. Bellamy always looked good - but, in the suit he just -  _ damn _ .

Not to mention the way he was bringing a smile to her face as he told her stories of the Gods and demigods and heroes that were depicted in the artwork. 

Right now they were in front of this sculpture of Hades and Persephone; Hades flying by in his chariot and Persephone holding her arms out, waiting and wanting and willing. She wasn’t catching the words he was saying, but she was catching the passion in his voice, the warm, deep rumble that tingled her ears and wrapped around her, mixing with the soft classical music playing in the background to make a melody more beautiful that anything Clarke had ever heard before.

The light was catching in his hair and his smile was so big and - Bellamy Blake was beautiful. He was her best friend. She was so lucky to have him and she didn’t even know if she deserved him.

Clarke doesn’t think about that too much in that moment, though. She’s thinking about Bellamy’s freckles, and how they move when his mouth stretches into a smile.

She leans up to kiss his cheek, but he turns his head and her lips press against his. 

She freezes for a moment when it happens, and their eyes meet, and - and there is something in Bellamy’s eyes, just before he closes them, that makes Clarke kiss him. 

And Bellamy kisses her back.

He tightens his hold around her waist, and his other hand comes up - warm, and calloused - to cup her cheek. The kiss is soft and sweet, tentative and exploratory, and Clarke feels likes she’s floating and she feels new and fresh and-

He tastes like a beginning.

He does pull away, but he doesn’t go anywhere. His hand is stroking her cheek, and his forehead is touching hers, and his eyes are searching her’s for something. 

She gives him a smile, and he looks at her like she just hung the moon.

* * *

They don’t get a moment alone after that, Dante always hovering and introducing her to people. She was pretty sure that he was casually reminding her that this was technically a work function, but.

Bellamy’s got one hand on the wheel and one hand in her’s as he drives back to her place. She’s holding the bouquet of lilies on her lap. They smell good, but not as good as him.

When they arrive at her building, she holds onto him for support as she shucks her heels off and carries them in one hand, the bouquet in the other, that arm slung through his and his head on her shoulder as they climb the stairs. 

He unlocks the door and Clarke goes to the kitchen to deal with the flowers.

“You know, I don’t think I have another vase.” Clarke says as she looks through her cabinets. “I guess I’m going to have to use this.” She pulls out this comically large mug that says DON’T TOUCH MY NOG that Jasper had got her that past Christmas. 

She turns to face Bellamy, but he’s standing frozen in the entryway, staring at the vase of roses on the counter.

“What?”

He looks up at her, and he looks scared. She can see him swallow. “I didn’t get you those flowers, Clarke.”

She freezes. 

He didn’t get her the flowers? But it’s Bellamy, and he got her these other ones. She had found the flowers on her countertop, and there are only two people who have a key to her apartment - herself, and him.

A minute passes and then it hits her.

The mug falls to the floor and it’s a miracle that it doesn’t break. 

Bellamy rushes to her side and wraps his arms around her as Clarke processes this. Bellamy’s whispering to her but there’s this ringing in her ears and she can’t move.

Then Bellamy’s gone, and he’s throwing the roses in the trash. He’s gone a second later but comes back just as fast and he’s got a bag packed for her. She can tell that there’s anger boiling under the surface of his skin, but he’s keeping it contained for her sake, for now. He takes her hand and all the way he is telling her that _it was going to be alright, they'll fix this._

And later, after they were back at his place lying in his bed - he hadn’t even tried to leave or take the couch, just got in after her and held her tight - as she listened to the sounds of his breathing, Clarke couldn’t help but think that, of course, something just had to go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I first started writing this I didn't know where it was going. I have a vague sense now. Keyword vague. This chapter took me by surprise, honestly. [This](http://cdnd.lystit.com/photos/2013/10/12/theia-black-gold-bateauneck-cocktail-dress-product-3-14022965-641537670_large_flex.jpeg) is what I used as a reference for Clarke’s dress, and [this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/f5/e8/ae/f5e8aee1a69b35e4b56026f656dcf46c.jpg) is what I used for her hair.
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	7. part vii

They didn’t talk about the kiss.

The aftermath of that bombshell, that Finn had somehow got into her apartment and left her flowers like a total fucking creep, had left everything tentative and delicate. It was like a reset button had been hit. Bellamy was all too aware of the purpose of all of this again, that it was to deter Finn.

It didn’t seem to be working, and that worried him.

Clarke worried him too. She had been too quiet after, stunned; she was on autopilot. But then the anger set in, and Clarke was doing everything a bit more forcefully. She slammed doors as she left, scrubbed the dishes clean so intensely that she broke a dish. He has never seen her paint so angrily before: violent brushstrokes, whipping splatter, dark colors, frayed edges. She had been calming down a bit over the course of the week, but she still had that match ignited inside her, just waiting for it to catch on brush.

He had called Miller first thing in the morning to ask him to check it out.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Miller had told him, and Bellamy could tell that he was just as frustrated as he was. “Clarke’s landlady let him in because she has that authority - which, is legal in the lease paperwork, which is really awful Clarke should read her contract next time, because that shouldn’t really be a thing.” Miller sighed, and Bellamy guessed he was probably rolling his eyes. “She said that she recognized him as her boyfriend, and that she didn’t want to ruin a romantic surprise. I set her straight, but she still didn’t do anything illegal, technically.”

Bellamy had got used to Clarke living in his apartment, and yeah, it would be amazing and like a dream come true if she moved in. He didn’t know if she’d actually go for that, at this point, but he knew that when Clarke’s lease was up, she was definitely going to move out of that place.

“I’d tell her that she should file a restraining order,” Miller had said, “but there isn’t substantial evidence that he’s been stalking her, you know?”

Bellamy ran a hand over his face, “Would you arrest me if I beat him up?”

Miller laughed. “You shouldn’t have told me. It’s premeditated now.”

Bellamy had gone to her apartment later, took out her trash which held offending roses, searched around to see if anything felt out of place (which, thankfully, nothing did), and change her locks.

But Clarke never asked to go back to her apartment, and he never brought it up. They spent most of their nights like they always did, curled up together on his couch with cartons of takeout and watching something on Netflix. They usually talked, her making jokes or imitating the accents and he pointing out any historical inaccuracies or mythological references that popped up, but it had been quiet. They made conversation that was only _slightly_ more meaningful than small talk. He only got small laughs out of her when he made a joke.

He wanted to talk to her again, to make her laugh and see her smile. He wanted to talk about the kiss.

He could tell that she hadn’t meant to, initially. He was just as stunned as she was when he turned his head and their lips pressed together. But then, she had kissed him, and his head was spinning, he was seeing stars, tasting joy, _floating_. He had hoped that is was _real_.

But all of that had to be forgotten for the time being.

* * *

Despite having been staying at Bellamy’s apartment since the incident, she’d been spending less time with him. They had their nights together, sure, but he no longer picked her up from work or met her for lunch. He had picked up on her vibe, the _I need sometime to myself vibe_. She liked riding the bus and getting lost in the crowd. She liked feeling like just another face in the crowd, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, without any personal responsibility or obligations.

He was giving her space, and she appreciated that.

Clarke could think on these bus rides, on her detours through her walk through the park. She thought about Finn. She was done having him dictate her life, making her second guess herself and scare her out of her home. She wasn’t going to be scared. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her anymore.

If she ever saw him again, she swore she was going to punch him in the face. She’d do more, if there were no witnesses around.

Clarke also couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss.

 _Their kiss_. She hadn’t felt that spark, those fireworks, ever before. It hadn’t felt like the world shifted on its axis, or like a drastic change; it had felt like the next step in something new and wonderful. She hadn’t realized the change, that her simple love of a friend - it was always more than that, in a way that Clarke can’t explain with words, there was nothing simple about it - had evolved into something else, not something _more_ but something _clear_.

She could see them together, like they were now but without any barriers. She could see them happy, she could see a future for them.

And that terrified her, because she could also see everything going down in flames, because Clarke couldn’t be in love with someone without everything going horribly wrong.

Those roses had felt like a warning, a reminder.

Wells had been her high school sweetheart, and even though she was already falling out of love with him when he died, it didn’t hurt any less. Lexa had been a whirlwind, an adventure, but Clarke couldn’t recognize herself anymore with her, and then she was gone too, to Russia or France or wherever she was now. Finn had felt normal, and safe, but he was jealous and petty, selfish, a liar and a cheat.

She had been in love with all of them at one point, and they had all left her, or she had scared them away.

She _loves_ Bellamy. He’s her best friend. They can read each other with just a look, they always have each other's backs, she spends more time with him than anyone else, she looks forward to spending time with him more than anyone. She loves everything about him: the way he fills his books with scraps of scribbled on paper because he refuses to write on them, or the way he gets flustered when he reads a terrible essay from one of his students, or how he comments on historical fiction, or how his glasses are always skewed in the mornings. She loves his hair, and his freckles, and his _warmth._ She can’t imagine life without him.

That’s why she can’t - can't isn't even the right word, because she _can_ , she could see that possibility, that probably; _shouldn't,_ that fit better - be _in love_ with him. Something bad always happens when Clarke’s in love: people get hurt, she gets hurt. _He_ could get hurt. She doesn’t want to lose what they have. It's not worth the risk.

She had felt something, something much more than she’s willing to admit, so she keeps telling herself that Bellamy kissing her back had to be just a fluke, it must have been him keeping up appearances. It was, it had to be.

She had to keep telling herself that.

She focused all her rage at Finn into pure determination. She wasn’t going to let herself mess this up, mess him up. She wouldn’t lose Bellamy. She couldn’t. She would have to forget that kiss, that spark, for his sake.

* * *

“Is she alright?”

Bellamy had called Octavia to tell her about the incident, and was happy to know that Octavia still cared about her friend, despite the animosity she felt towards Clarke at the moment.

“Yeah,” Bellamy sighed, he missed his sister, he really did, and it was nice of her to pick up this time, “She was a bit shaken up, but she’s getting back on her feet.”

“That’s good, I-” Octavia cut herself short. He could tell that she was trying to phrase her words carefully, “is _it_ still going on?”

“ _Yes_.” He had been reminded far too often of the harsh truth, he didn’t need her doing that too, but really, what did he expect? “But, O...” Bellamy paused for a moment, licked his lips, “she kissed me.”

A beat. “And?”

“She didn’t need to, you know? She was going for my cheek _but_ \- point is, _she_ kissed _me_. We never have kissed for this whole thing. This was our _first kiss_ , O.”

Octavia was silent on the other end. He could the faint sound punches and grunting in the background from the kickboxing gym she worked at. He could practically hear her eyebrows smush together.

“I think she may - I think she may feel the same way. _Maybe_.” Bellamy knew that Octavia didn’t want any part of this, but he didn’t have anyone else to talk to about this situation.

He could hear his sister let out a breath. “Has she said anything?”

Bellamy rubbed his forehead, “The whole Finn leaving roses in her apartment kinda happened right after, so…”

“Bellamy.”

“I know, _I know_ ,” Bellamy was a mess. He didn’t need to be reminded of that either. “I don’t want to push her.”

She let out a harsh laugh that crackled in the receiver. “If you don’t push her, nothing is going to change.”

“You know, I had actually called you to ask you something else.” Bellamy Blake, smooth as ever at changing the topic of conversation, “I wanted us to hang out again. By _us_ I mean-”

“I know what you mean,” Octavia interrupted him, “I can’t even believe you think that that would be a good idea.”

“I’m trying to give her back a sense of normalcy again, okay?” Bellamy said. “ _Please_ O, for me.”

He was doing the signature Blake _Pouty Voice_. It got his sister whatever she wanted, and sometimes, just sometimes, it got Bellamy what he wanted, too.

“ _Fine,_ ” Octavia grit out, “I’ve got to get back to work, and you’ve got to get back to being pathetic.”

“I never stopped!” He said as she hung up.

His sister was right about him needing to do something, but he just, he was pathetic, okay?

He couldn’t wallow for too long though, because he heard the door open and the smell of meatballs filled the apartment.

“I got us subs,” Clarke said as she came into the kitchen, “Meatball marinara for you.” She handed him his sandwich, and then pulled out hers, “and a pizza sub with cheese for me.”

Bellamy laughed, “You could have just got a pizza, you know?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, “I told you, I’m never taking pizza on the bus again, it’s too crowded.”

Bellamy placed a kiss onto her forehead. He hadn’t really thought about it, it just felt _natural_. When he pulled back Clarke had her eyes closed and a small smile lighting up her face.

She opened her eyes, and Bellamy was once again just stunned by her.

“Have you heard of this show _Baskets_?” Clarke said abruptly and headed towards the living room. “It’s about this guy who wants to be a clown, so his mom sends him to clown college in France but he doesn’t speak French and…”

Turns out that show was this really weird dark-comedy, but he was laughing more at Clarke’s comments about the show than the show itself. Everything he had been worried about her evaporated. She was acting normal again, this was the most Clarke-like she had been all week.

“Octavia and Lincoln want to go to the bar on Friday night,” Bellamy said as the credits for the latest episode start rolling.

Clarke raises an eyebrow, “Yeah,” he can tell she’s genuinely surprised, and well, it was his idea, and she can probably guess that, “yeah, that be nice. I feel like I haven’t seen them in forever.”

She’s definitely not wrong.

Clarke takes another bite of her sandwich, and he can just tell by the way her jaw is working, how she’s looking at the floor that she’s got something that’s bothering her.

He wants to ask her, wants to know if it’s about Friday - _if it’s about the kiss?_ \- and he opened his mouth to ask her just as she swallows and speaks.

“I think I’m ready to go back to my apartment.”

Bellamy blinked at her. “What?”

Clarke bit her lip, her fingers tightening around her sub, “I mean, I know I’m here most nights anyway, but… I won’t let him run me out. He can’t mess with me anymore.”

“I get it, yeah,” Bellamy nodded, he’s proud of her, glad, but, still. He’s going to miss the semi-permanence of their co-habitation from the past week. “I can drive you-”

She placed a hand on his arm, “Not… not tonight, if that’s alright.” Clarke looked like she was struggling with herself, with some internal dilemma. She bit her lip hard enough that he can see a dot of blood on it. He has to stop himself from reaching out to touch it, to wipe it away. “It’s late, and all. We- we can figure it out later.”

Bellamy put his arm around her and tucked her into his side, “just say the word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you seen that tumblr post where it's like "when you go to write something but end up having to write like 2k of build up to that first?" or something along those lines? Well, this is that 2k of build up.
> 
> Also, I hope Clarke's train of thought was clear? That was the part of this chapter that was bothering me the most as I edited it.
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	8. part viii

Bellamy had picked her up from work on Friday, and they grabbed a late dinner at the Shake Shack a few blocks from the bar in Fells Point where they were meeting Octavia and Lincoln later.

Things were back to normal, for the most part. That’s what Clarke had been hoping for. When they were alone together, they acted like themselves, and sure, Clarke had felt a an underlying shift, but she was ignoring that. When they were around their friends, they were just more  _ actively  _ touchy. Barely any effort required, because apparently they just  _ looked  _ like a lovely couple. That old lady that was in front of them in line had said so.

She knew they would have to end it soon, that it wasn’t really relevant anymore, that it hadn’t even _ worked  _ . But Clarke wants to hold onto this while she still can, this hypothetical scenario where they could be together and no one would get hurt.  

Clarke listened to Bellamy as he talked about his day. The fact that his students -  _ ninth graders  _ \- actually listened to him was beyond her. It was remarkable really, that he didn’t hate his job.

“I finally managed to get approval for their field trip for next month,” Bellamy said between bites of his burger, “the one to the American History Museum down in DC.”

Clarke nodded. He’d been talking about it for a while, here and there. The new wing had finished construction.

“You know,” he puts his burger down, “I still need another chaperone, and you’d be much more preferable to any disgruntled parent.”

A month from now… yeah, if she asked soon she would probably be able to get the day off.

“As long as it’s not a Tuesday I should be able to make it,” she replied, then upon seeing his reaction, she thought: _ Bellamy’s smile is like the sun. _

“Great,” he said, smile never wavering, “it’s a date.”

* * *

 

“What are you thinking?” Bellamy asked her, later, when they’re at the bar.

Clarke had been fiddling with the napkin under her drink, fraying the edges a bit.

Octavia and Lincoln were late - not that they had really a set time, but it was eleven-fifteen, and they said they’d been there at ten thirty (not to mention Bellamy getting a text from Octavia about twenty minutes ago saying they’d be there in ten).

“Octavia’s still mad at me, isn’t she?” Clarke tore another strip of napkin, “I mean, do you think that’s why she’s late?”

Bellamy studies her for a moment, and then sighs. “O can be difficult sometimes, but I’m sure there’s an actual reason-”

As if right on cue, Octavia’s there with Lincoln behind her. She throws her arms around her brother without so much as sparing a glance at Clarke.

“Sorry we’re late; I kept changing my mind about coming.” Octavia sat on the barstool on the other side of Bellamy.

Yeah, she was still mad. Bellamy had tried to make it sound like it had been Octavia’s idea to meet up, but Clarke knew better. Octavia would have talked to Clarke herself, as if nothing had happened in the first place, if things were good. But she didn’t go to Clake.

“O…”

“What? That’s the reason;  _ I’m  _ not lying about it.” Clarke could feel the side eye from Octavia.

She gave a smile to Lincoln who was still standing; he returned it with an apologetic look. At least he wasn’t pissed at her.

Clarke asked Lincoln about the new mural he was designing for the side of the youth center and he eagerly responded with the details in order to dissipate the awkward silence. It worked. They all made conversation; only Clarke and Octavia never once addressed each other. Clarke wanted to, but whenever anything she said got close to Octavia, Octavia cut her off and redirected the conversation.

Then Lincoln just had to ask, “So, Clarke, have you heard anything from…”

She knew what - or rather, who - he meant. She could feel the arm Bellamy had around her go stiff.

“Nothing since the flowers,” Clarke said.

Octavia laughed, “Does that mean you’ll be dumping my brother now? Or is he still a convenience for you?”

Was it possible for Bellamy’s arm to get even stiffer? Because it sure felt like he was. Lincoln had his eyes closed, head tilted towards to the ceiling like he regretted even asking.

_ Is he still a convenience for you? _

Something in Clarke’s head clicked; the pieces falling into place. She knew that Octavia didn’t approve of their plan, but the specific reason she did not, “that’s why you’re mad at me?”

“For someone who's supposed to be smart, you sure are an idiot.”

“ _ Octavia  _ ,” warned Bellamy.

“If you’re not going to push her, then I will,” Octavia stood up from her barstool and looked at Clarke for the first time, “You really expect me to be cool with you using and toying with my brother?”

“I’m not toying with him.”

“Like hell you’re not!” Octavia snaps, “the only thing fake about your relationship is  _ you  _ , Clarke. And you can’t honestly tell me you’re ignorant about all this.” Octavia gestured to Bellamy and shook her head. She addressed him next, “I can’t watch this anymore. Call me when you decide to stop torturing yourself.”

Octavia took Lincoln by the hand and stormed off. Lincoln mouthed _ sorry  _ over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Clarke was silent. She could feel her phone buzz on the table but didn’t bother to check it. Bellamy took his arm off her.

She looked up at him, “Bellamy…?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Let’s just go,” he said. He threw a twenty on the counter and grabbed her cell phone before taking her by the hand and leading her out of the bar.

* * *

 

They sat on his couch, Clarke with her legs tucked under her, and Bellamy, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin sitting in his hands.

They hadn’t spoken since the bar; Bellamy hadn’t even put the radio on in the car. It gave Clarke a lot of time to think.

“Bellamy…” Clarke said cautiously. Bellamy turned his head to face her. Clarke felt unnerved by the hardness of his eyes, but she kept going, “Octavia’s mad because of the...”

Bellamy sits up and leans back into the couch, sighing and closing his eyes. “But that’s not all of it,” he replied.

Clarke swallowed. Bellamy was looking at her again, eye contact never wavering. She spoke again, even more slowly, “she’s under the impression that this isn’t all... that you…”

Clarke had kept telling herself that everything Bellamy did was just for show. That the kiss was to keep up appearances, that he just went along with what she did. She never let herself even consider that he might be...

She should have ended this a lot sooner, because falling in love was code for disaster. And if he was, he’d get hurt no matter what.

He just kept looking at her with those stern eyes, and it felt like an eternity had passed before he spoke, so quietly she could barely hear them, those four words: “I’m tired of pretending.”

He sounds so dejected that Clarke can almost feel it, too.

But then Bellamy takes her faces in his hands and leans in close, he gives her a moment, a chance, to pull away.

But Clarke doesn’t pull away, despite all her doubts and racing thoughts, she doesn’t want to.

He presses his lips to hers and that of moment of sadness is gone and it’s replaced by an entirely new one. Clarke isn’t aware of when she began kissing him back, or how her hands ended up tangled in his hair. Or how she ended up in sitting sideways in his lap.

This kiss was different; it had that same spark that sent her head spinning, but this one had the privilege of privacy. It was hot and messy and desperate. It wasn’t tentative; it was demanding, it was  _ wanting  _ . It was a pray, a plea. It was going under, giving up, giving in. It was that last barrier coming down: it was Bellamy, finally following his gut, it was Clarke, forgetting or not caring about all her worries.

He breaks the kiss and they sit there, breathing heavily, their foreheads touching. His hands are running themselves through her hair.

“Clarke…” There it is again, that voice, that tone, and her pounding heart aches again. He presses his face into the crook of her neck, holding her, “Please tell me there’s a part of you that wants this to be real, too…”

Clarke doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t know what to say. Her ears are ringing and it’s hard to think straight. She desperately wants to be selfish, to say  _ yes  _ , but that’ll hurt him later. Saying no will hurt him now.

Octavia was right: she was an idiot. She hadn’t noticed Bellamy’s feelings as anything more than the act, or their friendship. (and if she had, she never acknowledged them for what they really were). It was unfathomable: Bellamy, who loved her, she knew, but in the way he loves everyone, would want something more with her. He knew her fucked up history for Christ’s sake, that whenever someone gets close to her romantically the world implodes.

But Bellamy didn’t run screaming. He accepted all that head on, he didn’t care. He continued to just  _ be there  _ . He was exactly what she needed.

Clarke didn’t say anything; she couldn’t. She couldn’t hurt him, and in this moment she couldn’t come up with a response that wouldn’t hurt him.

She planted a kiss to his jaw, warm and tender. She held onto him tighter, stroking the back of his head as they slowly, absentmindedly, rocked back and forth.

When she woke up the next morning - or rather, later that morning - she was tangled in Bellamy’s arms on the couch. Somehow he didn’t wake up when she got free, and Clarke was thankful for that. She needed more time to think.

She shouldn’t be in love Bellamy Blake. Clarke shouldn’t be in love anyone; she was trying to avoid love. She was trying to avoid getting hurt, and avoid hurting anyone else.

So despite the flicker of hope she could feel in her chest, she shouldn’t love Bellamy Blake. For him.

Clarke knew she was hurting Bellamy now, but she just kept telling herself that he’d get over it. He’d move on. He didn’t - couldn’t - really mean it. She was sparing him further pain.

But that didn’t sit right with her. None of it did, except Bellamy. He was a constant. He felt like home, he felt safe. He was the answer, but she didn’t know the question yet.

Clarke found her shoes and cell phone by the front door. The clock on the wall said it was four forty-five in the morning. Great.

She managed to take one last look at Bellamy - sleeping like a log, his eyebrows all scrunched together like he did when he was thinking hard about something.

There it was again, that flicker of hope: the temptation to go back to his arms, to be done pretending, done denying.

Clarke turned the knob and left as quietly as she could, and once the door was closed, she ran down the hall and didn’t stop until she was of the apartment building.

He’d be better off without her. Everyone was, after all, in the end.

* * *

 

Clarke didn’t go back to her apartment. Instead she walked the streets of Baltimore for a while, her shoes still in her hands. When her legs started to ache she turned into Patterson Park and sat on the steps outside of the Pagoda in the middle of the park.

It was a place she had been with Bellamy many times before, and despite the chill in the air she could imagine the warmth of his presence next to her. She still wasn't sure, even after leaving, that she was making the right call. Her head and her heart kept flip-flopping inside her.

_ The only thing fake about your relationship is you. _

She needed to clear her head, to think things through.

Clarke was more confused as things started to make sense. How Bellamy was always the one to initiate the physical contact, even when they were around strangers, and even when they were alone. She realized that he never once complained about their arrangement; he never complained about the lack of sex he could have been having with other women. He never acknowledged that there was an expiration date on the whole thing.

_ “It’s a date.”  _ he had said about the field trip.

She hadn’t been thrown by that, she was - or rather, had been, she wouldn’t be going now - excited about the fieldtrip. It would be fun to see him try to keep the kids attention (even if that meant she had to put up with them).

These past few weeks had been more than either of her past relationships had been. And that scared her.

_ Please tell me there’s a part of you that wants this to be real, too… _

Bellamy’s smile. The way Bellamy talked about history with such a passion. Bellamy’s arms around her; the way he’d hold her and take her hand. How they just worked so, so well together. The way he cares for everyone and anyone; the way he cares for her.

_ I’m tired of pretending. _

Clarke’s crying now - not even trying to hold it back because she screwed up - she screwed up. Again. She shouldn’t have let it get this far.

Or maybe she didn’t let it get far enough.

Dawn was breaking over the harbor. She didn’t know the exact time but probably wasn’t even six am yet. He still maybe asleep, maybe-

“Clarke?”

She spun her head around at the sound of her name:

_ Bell-? _

But, no.

Clarke’s on her feet in an instant. “What are you doing here?”

As Finn looks her over she can’t help but shiver, “I needed to talk to you. You weren’t answering your phone.”

Clarke’s hand goes to her front pocket - where her phone was, dead. Finn didn’t need to know that though.

“So you followed me?” she spat.

Finn took a step forward, and she took a step back, down a step.

“It’s important,” he insisted, and before she could respond, he continued, “I got a job offer in Chicago. I’ve accepted.”

“Congratulations,” Clarke spat.

“I want you to come with me.”

Clarke blinks, and then bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over, “What makes you think that I’d want to?”

Finn’s voice is hard, challenging, “I know your thing with Blake is fake. I heard Octavia in the bar, Clarke.  _ I know  _ -”

“You’ve been spying on me?” Clarke yelled, “In addition to  _ breaking into my apartment _ ?”

“Clarke-”

“You’re here now, so don’t even try to deny it!” Clarke nearly falls as she stumbles backwards down the steps, away from him. “Leave me alone.”

Finn’s right behind her though, “I know you still love me, Clarke. You have too.”

“You don’t know  _ shit  _ -”

“ _ I’m _ in love with you-”

_ “I’m in love with Bellamy!  _ ” She roared, and it surprises even her, saying it outloud for the first time. The admission fuels her, sets a fire in her.

“You broke my heart, Finn, and you can’t fix it. And you only prove every single time you talk to me that I made the right choice. You really think that I’d uproot my whole life and run away with you? After everything?” As she tells him off, she convinces herself that she is not alone in this, that she doesn’t bear all the responsibility for her failures. That it isn’t her fault. “I’ve moved on. I’ve found someone that loves me, not some _ idea _ of me.” Her arms are shaking, and she’s pictures Bellamy’s face, smiling, pleading, laughing, crying,  _ loving  _ . “I’m in love with him, and that’s real. It’s the most real thing I have ever felt. I’m not going to let you ruin me again, and I’m definitely not going to let you ruin him. So,  _ fuck off  _ .”

She turns away from him again to get away, but his hand grabs her arm and yanks her back. As her body is turned back to face him, her other arm, with a fist on the end, shoots out and collides with his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	9. part ix

Bellamy wasn’t surprised when he woke up alone in the morning. Did that make it hurt any less? No, no it didn’t.

He called her cell phone. No answer. Had he been expecting her too.

He texted his sister next: _you were right_. She had said not to come crying to her, but.

(9:30) O: _I’ll bring chunky monkey_

Even when she denied it, his sister would always be there for him when he needed it. She wouldn’t leave him like-

He didn’t want to believe it; when Clarke had kissed him back there had been this flicker of hope rise in him, stronger than it ever had. It had wavered slightly when she hadn’t said anything. And now, just like her, it was gone.

Bellamy sniffed his shirt. It still smelled like her.

He stripped and got into the shower. He didn’t want to, but wallowing wasn’t his style. He’d try to wash her away. He didn’t want to, and he knew he never could, on the inside, but it was a start.

The beating of the shower against the back of his head brought him back to the feeling of her hands in his hair -

He was clean enough.

He made breakfast, ate it. He washed the dishes, put them away. He did mundane things - things with motions and patterns to get his mind off the person who was missing, who was usually there with him for these things.

It didn’t work.

He attempted to grade papers but he couldn’t focus. Not even one of those terrible History Channel Reality show could distract him.

He was in the bathroom when he heard the pounding on the door.

“Hang on, O!” He called as he zipped his pants.

The pounding hadn’t let up though; if anything, it was getting louder.

“Jesus, O! I’m coming I’m-”

But when he opened the door it wasn’t his sister that flung herself into his arms.

He stumbled backward, a bit in shock, but his arms hugged her back, locking her to his chest.

Clarke pulled away and looked up at him eyes wide. She had been crying, he could tell, and she looked winded like she’d been running a lot.

That flicker? That flicker of hope that she’d extinguished? Well, she lit it again.

“I’m not pretending,” she said - that flicker, a flame - and then: “It’s been real. I- I think it always has.”

That flame? A wildfire.

He reached down to kiss her and this time there was no hesitation on her part. Clarke kicked the door shut behind her before her hand shot into his hair. He ran his hands down her sides, and along her hips; he hoisted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist.

There never once broke the kiss, because who needs to breathe, anyway?

Bellamy led them over to the couch and plopped down so that she was sitting on his lap. Her mouth opened to his and he’d never tasted anything better in his life. His hands were all over her - in her hair, on her neck, down her sides, on her thighs. He was lost, utterly lost.

They were ablaze. Together.

Clarke did pull away though, and there again they sat, on his couch, breathing heavily with their foreheads touching.

But this time the ache he felt was somewhere else, and it was much, much better one.

Clarke’s thumb traced circles onto his cheek. Her breath tasted delicious in her mouth. He didn’t want the moment to end but he needed to be sure.

“When I woke up and you weren’t here… I was scared… I thought….”

“Me too,” Clarke said, “I was scared… I kept telling myself that it wasn’t - that it couldn’t - but…” Clarke’s voice got hard, like it was one last test of herself, “In case it wasn’t clear, I’m in love with you. I’m sorry that it took so long but I’m so in love with you and-”

Bellamy flipped them over on the couch so that he was pressing her down on her back into the cushions and then he pressed his lips onto hers and kissed her hungrily because _she loved him she loved him she loved him._

“I love you, too,” Bellamy said between kisses. “I love you, god, _Clarke_ , I love you-”

Her stomach grumbled and Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh. “Let’s get you something to eat.” Bellamy slid off her and reached for her hand but Clarke recoiled at his touch. “Clarke?”

Clarke held her hand to her chest, “Not that hand …”

Bellamy looked at the hand - it was seriously bruised. “Can you move your fingers?” Clarke could only get her pinky and thumb to move. “Jesus, Clarke, did you punch a wall or something?”

“Something like that,” Clarke replied. Bellamy raised an eyebrow, and she let out a huff before mumbling, “I punched Finn.”

Bellamy stared at her.

Clarke told him about her morning - about walking around the city for a while (which, he reminded her, was dangerous) and going to Patterson Park and Finn showing up, wanting her to run away with him.

“Well, I punched him, and he has a really thick skull and all,” Clarke shrugged, all too casual about the whole thing, “but fun fact: it’s actually pretty easy to break your hand punching someone in the jaw.”

Bellamy thinks he showed restraint during this exchange, sure he was yelling (not at her, but yelling about killing the son of a bitch) but he didn’t run out the door to kill the son of a bitch. Really, he should get a medal for that.)

“Really, Bellamy… I don’t think he’ll be bothering me again,” Clarke finished and held up her hand, “I mean, I’m pretty sure he got the message this time.”

Bellamy still wasn’t satisfied. Finn had been stalking her; it could have been a lot worse.

“Let’s talk about that later,” Bellamy said, “right now we need to get your hand checked at.”

“And breakfast.”

Bellamy nodded, “that too.”

* * *

The diagnosis was that Clarke had broken her three center fingers, to which she had just said, to some confused doctors, that it was worth it. Since he wasn’t family, Bellamy was forced to wait outside while Clarke had her bones set and cast applied.

His phone buzzed. It was Octavia: _have the monkey, where are you???_

He looked towards the doors that Clarke had disappeared behind, then back to his phone smirking, and texted his sister:  _turns out you were wrong, actually._

Not two seconds had passed before his phone rang.

“Explain, _now_.”

Bellamy laughed, “she came back, O. She just needed-” he stops short, Clarke’s just been discharged “-I’m at the hospital, I’ll call you later.”

“Hospital? _Bellamy_ -”

He hung up and went over to them, “So?”

Clarke held up her pink cast, “six weeks of the cast at the very least.”

“Still think it was worth it?”

Clarke smirks up at him, before standing up on her toes to kiss him, “So worth it.”

* * *

 Clarke didn't want to leave Bellamy, and she could tell that Bellamy didn't want to leave her. Clarke had work though, and she needed to shower and get changed. And get used to being one-handed. Despite Dante being a pretty chill, albeit creepy boss, she knew that not even literally breaking her hand would get her the day off. He was totally fine with sending her home early, but a day off? Out of the question, those - even sick days, practically - needed to be negotiated way far in advance.

She was glad that her boss wasn't there when she arrived at the gallery that afternoon. Clarke showing up in great mood and a broken hand would be enough to bring onslaught of questions she really didn't want to answer.

It was also a particularly slow day at the gallery, too, so Clarke had time to do her own sketching at her desk. She drew rather absentmindedly, lost in thought, thinking about everything that happened. It wasn't really a surprise to her that she had sketched Bellamy.

She was snapped out of staring at the picture when the door chime went off, "Hello, welcome to-" she stopped when she saw who it was.

Raven Reyes.

Clarke could feel her cheek ache, thinking back to their initial meeting.

"This a bad time?"

Clarke to a glance at the gallery, it was empty; no excuse there. Clarke shook her head.

Raven crossed her arms. She looked rather uncomfortable - about being in the gallery, about just being here in general. "Finn showed up at my apartment this morning," Raven said, taking a few steps, "Told me he loved me, that he wanted me to move to Chicago with him," Raven laughed coldly, her eyes fell to Clarke's cast, "I asked him where he got the swollen jaw. You just confirmed my theory."

"Did you give him the same courtesy I did?" Clarke said, holding up her cast.

"I used my knee, and I didn't break anything, but it had the same effect."

They laughed together and Clarke felt a surge of affection for the other woman.

Raven scratched the back of her neck, "I came here to apologize," Raven said, "for the-" Raven motioned to her face "-it was out of line."

Clarke gave her a small smile, "I get it. It's fine-"

"No, nah don't give me that," Raven cut her off. She rocked on her heels, "If you ever feel like getting a drink and hating on the bastard, I'd be down."

"Yeah," Clarke smiled wider, "I'd like that."

* * *

 "I can't believe you were lying to us!" Jasper was nearly in tears. The night was still young but he clearly already had too much to drink.

Bellamy had wanted to spend the night with Clarke, just the two of them, but after leaving his sister hanging she may have threatened him. So they came out, and he honestly wasn’t surprised when the rest of the group showed up.

Octavia had been wary at first, kept asking him if he was sure.

"Glad she finally came to her senses," is what Octavia had left it on.

He was glad to see her talking to Clarke again, it was still a little strained, but Octavia would come around.

"Jasper, honestly," Monty said, " _none_ of that was fake."

Bellamy bent down to kiss Clarke's cheek where she was blushing furiously. It felt nice, to be touching each other without any agenda that didn’t revolve around them. He wasn't putting on some charade - he never really had been, to be honest - but she hadn’t known that. Now she did, and it caused her to turn a shade that quickly became his favorite color.

All their friends had had different reactions to the news: Jasper had felt betrayed but Bellamy could tell his sober-self wouldn't be upset as his currently drunk-self, Miller just patted him on the shoulder, and Monty had raised an eyebrow.

"I believe you on that's how it _started_ ," Monty said, pointing a finger at him, "but nothing else."

And hey, Monty was kinda right.

* * *

Bellamy had his arm wrapped around Clarke's shoulders to help steady her as he fumbled for the keys to his apartment. As soon as he got the door open Clarke made a beeline for the couch and collapsed on her back.

Bellamy laughed and picked her up from it and carried her bridal style to his bedroom.

"I think you may have had too much to drink," Bellamy said.

"No," Clarke whined, "You're so drunker than I am."

"Sure, sure," Bellamy set her down on the bed before curling up next to her, "whatever you say."

"Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

Her eyes are closed, almost as if she's speaking from sleep, "I'm glad it's real."

He runs a hand through her hair, "yeah, me too, Clarke, me too."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and they both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last full chapter, but their will be a short epilogue posted tomorrow. Thanks for all the wonderful comments! It really helped, because I had started this story over the summer, and barely updated it again in the fall. I almost orphaned this, actually, but all the feedback convinced me to keep going! :)
> 
> If you're in the mood for some angst after that last episode, I have this angsty [episode tag](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5924905) on it (spoilers for 3x03)
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


	10. part x

_Three Months Later_

“Why isn’t Clarke helping?” Jasper groaned as he entered the apartment with another one of the moving boxes.

Clarke stuck her head out of the kitchen, and Bellamy gave her a quick kiss as he passed her to take a box into the living room. She looked adorable with her hair all up in a messy bun and paint and bits of drywall on her face.

“Um,  _ hello _ , broken hand,” Clarke said to Jasper.

Jasper snorted. “Um,  _ hello _ , you got your cast off like a month ago.”

Clarke shrugged and turned back into the kitchen which smelled of paint fumes, back 

Clarke didn’t seem to mind. She was going for a mint green for the kitchen.

“You’re feeding me for this,” Jasper grumbled before trudging outside to grab another 

box that Miller and Lincoln were unloading from the truck.

Bellamy comes up from behind and puts his arms around her waist, and rests his chin on the top of her head. “He does realize that us moving in together was his suggestion, right?”

Clarke hums and leans her head back so that she can look up at him. “I don’t think he meant  _ both  _ of us moving, though.”

Bellamy looked around their new place, which was only half painted and littered with boxes, but it was already starting to feel like home.

When Clarke’s lease was up, they had just decided to go all in and break Bellamy’s. 

They had got one of those small colorfully painted townhouses, and yeah, it was squished wall to wall between two other people’s, but they had a small backyard, and a porch even. Clarke was turning the basement into a studio, and they had a spare bedroom for all of his books. It was perfect.

“PIZZA!” They heard being called from the outside. It sounded like Raven and Octavia were back with lunch. Clarke had met Raven for a drink, and then the next night introduced her to everyone, and the rest was history.

Bellamy liked Raven a lot, specially when she told him what she did to Finn’s balls.

“You ready?” And when Bellamy asked this, he wasn't just asking about facing their hoard of hungry, sweaty friends that were waiting outside.

But Clarke knows; she gets it.

“Ready.” She said, before stretching up on her toes to kiss him.

* * *

“Do we know where the sheets are?” Clarke asked as she tried to maneuver through the boxes that covered their new bedroom.

Bellamy laughed. “No, but I found your Wonder Woman snuggie.” 

It had been a gift from Raven, who had still felt bad for slapping her when they first met. Clarke loved it. She often wore it while painting, so it had more than a few stains.

“Come on,” Bellamy said, tugging on her hand. “We’ll find them tomorrow -  _ maybe _ .”

Clarke sighed and let Bellamy drag her to their bare mattress. They had found  _ a _ pillow in all the chaos, at least. 

Clarke curled into Bellamy’s side and he tossed the snuggie over them like a blanket. It didn’t cover them completely, and a draft came in through the arm holes, but. It was nice. This was home now. There was just something so great and pure about being in love with your best friend. 

Clarke let a mischievous grin come across her face when she saw that Bellamy’s eyes were already closed. Carefully, Clarke slid her legs up and pressed the bottoms of her cold feet onto his legs, and Bellamy gave a hiss. Clarke leaned up to reach his ears and whispered: “first night in the new place and all you want to do is sleep?”

A low growl came deep from Bellamy’s gut, and he squeezed her tighter into his chest. “Don’t tempt me, I am so tired. So, so tired.” Bellamy yawned, as if that proved his point. “I need a nap first.”

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh out loud, the kind of laugh that had her whole body shaking with delight. “You really are an old man.”

Bellamy snorted, but he placed a kiss into her hair. “Yeah, but you’re stuck with me, so get used to it.” 

“I already am.” Clarke said.

She was still watching him, him with his eyes glued shut and about to crash any minute. To go get to sleep, Clarke had got into the habit of counting his freckles like sheep -  _ one, two, three, four… -  _ until she got lost in their expanse and infiniteness and drifted off into sleep.

Her hand ghosted over his cheek, tracing a pattern among the stars on his face.

“I love you.” Clarke could never say it enough. She loved saying it, loved telling him, loved meaning it. She was so lucky to have him, and she would let him know every chance she got. And Clarke couldn’t wait to tell him again in the morning, or the next, or the next.

Bellamy didn’t open his eyes, but a sleepy, content smile came graced his face.

“I love you too.”

Clarke slid her hand down to his chest, and let the sturdy rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips lull her into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know exactly what to call their house, but they are all over Baltimore so here's an [example](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/eb/a4/3a/eba43a7866766e585e7aff12200ef1f5.jpg) EDIT: they are called "row houses" thank you to those who let me know!!
> 
> I can't believe I finished this. That's just so mindblowing to me. Thank you for sticking with this! And for all kudos and wonderful comments!!
> 
> (now to get back to that other modern au story that I have on here, that I haven't updated since October oops)
> 
> come hang out over on [tumblr](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)!


End file.
